From Afar
by Kenta Divina
Summary: For the Hare challenge. Watson's possible train of thought in BST chapter 10 as he councils Nona. Some flashbacking to the beginning of the madness.


Author's note: Here is my response to March Hare's challenge. It's mostly Watson's point of view centered on Chapter ten, but he reminisces back.  
  
From Afar  
  
_Ch. 10 - Watson  
_  
  
I cannot complain that it had been a dull evening. Hardly, due to the latest claims from Holmes's nephew that our number one suspect was a vampire. However, I could not stem a rebellious trickle of jealousy as the company divided towards other tasks. Each had a destiny of some fashion. Holmes was headed to the servant's quarters, Nona presumably to find the kitchen since she had missed the final meal of the day, and the two brothers to their own business. Left alone in the library, I heaved a melodramatic sigh before immediately berating myself for such covetous thinking. I was happy with such friends. I had people with which I could stretch my mental legs. People who needed me, and whom I needed in return.  
  
Without much thought I found myself in the music room. It was rather dim being designed with natural lighting in mind and darkness had rapidly fallen outside the great windows. I lit the candelabra standing on the varnished wood of the piano and on a whim sat down on the generously padded stool. Humming slightly to myself, I allowed my fingers to first silently play the cool keys to see if they remembered. Gradually they began to sound the notes of their own accord. It had been many many years since I had indulged in this slight talent my mother had cultivated out of me. Perhaps if I had kept playing my life would have turned out differently. But then I would never have served my motherland across the sea or met Holmes, or Nona.  
  
Ah, Nona Brown, what a perfectly unique young lady. I had thoroughly given up on my dear companion ever finding one of the fairer sex who would have the capacity to endure his strange whims, contradictory nature, and frigid composure. I had given up on God ever creating his soul mate although Holmes would soundly berate me for such a romantic term. However, somehow Fate had arranged it so that Nona would come into our lives and teach England's best private detective how to live. I was very happy for them, even if their reluctance to confront their deeper affections caused bumps in their road. How ironic that in my relief in finding proof that Holmes was just as man as I, I had found myself harboring deeper emotions for the one providing his salvation.  
  
Her knowledge of the future was astounding. Her wit second to none. Her undampened spirit lightened the world around her. Her independence, while slightly unnerving at times, was admirable and refreshing. I remember the night she arrived in this century as if it had happened hours ago. It was extremely late and a rainstorm had just passed. I had been tending a patient with a fever and was on my way home. Standing on the street corner about to hail a cab, a slight body hurled around the nearby apartment building and made full impact with me. I caught the flash of fearful but determined eyes and wet brown hair before my walking cane was snatched from my surprised grasp. The woman turned to face three brutes in close pursuit and brought the rod squarely down on the leading man's head. Taking in the situation at a speed I later fancied Holmes himself would have complimented, I whipped out my old service revolver and squeezed off a warning shot shouting Leave the lady be! It was efficient enough to startle the men into retreat. Her response to my query to her status was distinctly American and the slightly wild look in her eyes had not dissipated. She snapped,  
  
Well, for someone who's lost, friendless, cold and chased by gutter slime, I'm just peachy! How are you, sir?  
  
Clearly she was still in a bit of shock. For her to be walking Manhattan alone at this time of night in and of itself was slightly questionable. When I asked if she needed any assistance, her entire demeanor changed and she smiled. The pureness of that smile has left a permanent impression on me - full of open joy and enthusiasm towards the world. Just like herself, as I would later come to know. Pertly, she answered, Well, sir, my mother told me not to take rides from strangers, but I think I'll take you up on this one.   
  
I hailed a cab and gave him our destination. The young woman climbed in slightly awkwardly with a large knapsack of strange construction and sat in silence for some time. Finally I turned and asked, May I have the honor of your name, miss?  
  
Startled out of her reverie, she manfully held out her hand. Oh! Um, yeah, sure! It's Nona. My name, that is. Nona Brown. Thus was the beginning of an extremely interesting friendship.   
  
My fingers continued playing the piano on their own without my mind guiding them. It wasn't a complex tune, something I had memorized to perform for family gatherings. Absently I checked the position of my wrists which in the past my mother constantly corrected. They were correct. I let my mind wander once more.  
  
If I thought my introduction to Nona had been eventful, it paled in comparison to the encounter between my suite mate and our other-century guest. Holmes had come in even later than I and was still in bed the next morning. I thought it best to wake the young lady and offer her the use of the facilities first. She eagerly agreed and as I settled down at the breakfast table with the morning paper. Mrs. Hudson came in to arrange the morning meal. In retrospect I remember that after I had lost myself in the accounts of the outside world I heard a door open and close, but hadn't realized that it came from the direction of Holmes's bedroom. A moment later, the sitting room door was flung open and my friend ripped the paper from my hands with a shriek.  
  
How could you, Watson? She was, I was... How could you!  
  
The combination of surprise that he was awake at seven in the morning when he must have gone to bed around three, trying to interpret his broken sentences, and recover from the shock of seeing my usually composed companion a beet red made me extremely confused.  
  
Holmes, you aren't making sense! What on earth are you talking about?  
  
Whatever it was he had encountered clearly had him so stumped that he couldn't give an immediate answer. Instead, a feminine voice spoke up from behind the stunned detective. Nona appeared wearing Holmes's bathrobe. Her own face was rather red but she kept her voice calm.  
  
Perhaps I can explain.  
  
Holmes turned on her and lashed out with semi-rightious anger. And who might you be, miss, to intrude upon my humble home?  
  
Any other woman would most likely have stuttered in embarrassment or helplessly fluttered her hands in the air in a feeble attempt of explanation. I've seen few men who can stand up to my friend's piercing concentration coupled with his rare exercising of open emotion. Yet Nona held his gaze with her own, standing firm and answering with the same indignation.  
  
I am Nona E. Brown, sir, She looked him up and down, taking in his appearance in his morning robe. And I doubt that I shall need Dr. Watson to introduce you. Judging from your height, your features and the size of your ego, I deduce that you are Sherlock Holmes, the world's most arrogant consulting detective. As to my presence here, I was in an unfortunate situation with a band of ruffians, and Dr. Watson was kind enough to rescue me.   
  
If I hadn't been in such a state of shock, I would have laughed at her biting commentary, however, Nona looked past the still stunned Holmes to where I sat astonished at the breakfast table. Mr. Holmes is upset, Doctor, because he has already made my acquaintance in a most unorthodox way. It would seem that he neglected to knock before he opened the bathroom door. She smiled coldly.  
  
How dare he! Over the years of living together, Holmes and I had developed a pattern in the mornings. Usually I was the first up unless he was on a case and had been up all night pondering one fact or another. Even so, if the door was shut, it was a mutual understanding that entry was permissible if a warning was given beforehand. Either Nona had not heard the knock, or else Holmes had forgotten to make it. But it was no excuse to walk in on a lady. Dear God, I hope she had been dressed! However, by her present appearance, she had been in the midst of taking a bath. Even the sight of my friend's blush would not deter me from executing justice in the name of proper etiquette. Nona came to his rescue before I could launch into my lecture.  
  
However, there's really no harm done and I'm starving, so let's apply ourselves to breakfast, shall we?  
  
Unable to go through with my plan of action, I was left with only one course of action which was to follow the lady's lead. We ate in silence for some time before Holmes began predictably trying to impress our unanticipated house guest. Patting her hand in a nearly fatherly fashion, he said generously, Never fear, my dear, we will send a wire to your family and secure you passage on a ship. All will be well.  
  
She blinked. Excuse me?  
  
He smiled, steepling his long fingers in front of him as he began rattling off his observations. It is perfectly elementary, Miss Brown, although that is not your actual surname. You are of the wealthy Von Braun family, of New York, and you came to London some months ago without your family's knowledge in search of adventure. However, after your money ran out, you were forced to sell your jewels, your clothes, your hair, and finally take to the streets. I hope that you have realized your folly by now, and I am sure that your parents will be overjoyed to hear from you.  
  
I had been in the midst of sipping my coffee and nearly choked. Discreetly wiping my mouth, I hid a growing smile and waited to hear her response. Smiling sweetly with just the right touch of astonishment, she exclaimed, Why, Mr. Holmes, that is excellent! Your deductions are truly remarkable.  
  
I could see Holmes mentally patting himself on the back once more just before she continued, It's too bad they were all wrong.  
  
It is not often anyone gets the better of the Great Detective, but when the occasion occurs, it is well worth the wait. Completely stunned for the second time that morning, Holmes dropped his fork with clatter.  
  
All wrong?  
  
Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she added an afterthought. Well, I shouldn't say all. I am from New York, but as for the rest. She left the statement hanging. My poor friend looked entirely lost.  
  
But I don't understand.  
  
With a wicked smile, she turned to me. Doctor, perhaps you could shed some light on the matter.  
  
It took some extreme effort to mask my delight. What a cunning woman she was! Hiding my twitching upper lip by pretending to stroke it meditatively, I made a show of looking her over. After a moment I presented my findings'.  
Miss Brown is a writer and artist who enjoys playing the violin and guitar. She is twenty-one years of age and is in her third year of attendance at the University of New York. She lives with a roommate, waitresses part-time, speaks five languages to a minimal degree, walks a great deal and owns a small cat. Her visit to London was entirely spontaneous and she arrived only last night.  
  
Nona clapped her hands in praise. Wonderful, Doctor! Right on every point!  
  
Holmes turned blank gray eyes to both of us, looking nearly sick. Weakly he asked me, Watson, have I been exhibiting signs of an early senility?  
  
How very like Holmes to worry about his state of mind. With a twinge of guilt I began laughing, joined immediately by Nona. Clapping him on the shoulder, I explained between chuckles. It is perfectly elementary, Holmes, I met Miss Brown late last night, or early this morning, as I returned from my shift at the charity hospital. Over the course of the evening we had a lengthy chat, during which time I divined all the facts that I have now reiterated.  
  
His relief was palatable and he joined in our laughter. Thank God, Watson! For a moment, I feared that the pupil had outstripped the teacher and I would be reduced to chronicling your cases. He quickly returned to the true business at hand, However, it still remains as to ascertain Miss Brown's dilemma.  
  
There followed a lengthy debate as to where Nona would stay. She, of course, won the debate by holding a chemistry book from her time over the flames of the fireplace until my science-minded friend relented in her taking up the empty room downstairs. It was then I believe I came to the conclusion that Nona Brown and Sherlock Holmes were a perfect pair.  
  
A sudden burst of applause from the doorway behind me made me jump at the piano and turn, my face becoming rather heated. One of the objects of my speculation stood there with a smile. Bravo, Watson! That was wonderful! I had no idea you could play!  
  
Glancing back at the piano, I shrugged. It's nothing, really. I took a few lessons as a boy, and I just thought-   
She cut in with a playfully exasperated sigh, Watson, just say thank you,' okay?  
  
I couldn't help smiling at that and obediently chirped, Thank you.  
  
She came over and sat next to me on the piano bench. Gazing down on the keys, she played a single note, her face unnaturally darkened by a frown. We sat there for some time and I watched with amusement as she dutifully chewed on her bottom lip in contemplation. This was the heart of my two friend's problems. Neither would take the initiative to admitting their feelings for one another. I had been watching their exchanges for nearly a year now, and shaken my head at their stubbornness. Finally I broke the ice and asked, Thinking about Holmes, Nona?  
  
Her head came up in an instant. How did you know?!  
  
I couldn't help smiling. I had known for a very long time. The precise moment following the Tosca opera. I had known since that Christmas morning because that was when I think I realized I cared for her myself beyond the borders of mere friendship. You look very pensive. You've been wearing that look a great deal lately, especially when in connection with Holmes. Am I in error?  
  
She sighed, You're right, Watson, and you know that. I-I know that I. . . love Holmes, but he just. . . well, I just. . . I want to. . . I don't know. I want to tell him. . . you know, how I feel, but. . .  
  
The greatest minds always crumble in the face of true emotion. The greatest poets themselves fall short of describing the changes which love may dictate in the coldest of hearts. And the sharpest wits God has graced the earth with cannot find the courage to face one another.  
  
"What are you snickering at, Watson?"  
  
I quickly composed myself, fearing that my laughter would offend her. Shaking my head I answered, Oh, Nona, I was just thinking on how perfect Holmes and you are for each other. I find I am tempted to believe in fate.  
  
She looked at me skeptically. What brought THAT up all of a sudden?  
  
Oh dear Nona, you would never know how much these two bachelors had come to care for you. Fate had brought her here for Sherlock Holmes to save him from his own cynical mind. But Fate was not kind enough to shield my heart from her charms. Deliberately pushing those thoughts to the side, I put on my Doctor's face and explained,  
  
The two of you are both too proud for your own good. If either one of you had just broken down and confessed your feelings at any time before this point, you and I would not be having this conversation right now! Sometimes I had wanted to simply-  
  
She interrupted with one of her completely American phrases. Whoa, Watson, back up! You said either one of you.' Am I to assume that you think Holmes might love me too?  
  
Could the two of them be any more incognizant? They were the smartest people I knew, well, smartest law abiding people I knew, and yet when it came to themselves, neither had a clue how to go about expressing what they thought. Nona must have seen my train of thought for she blushed charmingly. However, she still questioned me.  
  
You are basing this conjecture on what?  
  
Sardonically I replied, Observation and deduction. She snorted as I continued. Naturally, Nona, you lack eyes in the back of your head, so you cannot see when someone looks at you from across a room, or what the person's expression is. Simply put, I can. My voice softened without my intention. I have watched Holmes watch you with a rather heartfelt expression for roughly four months now. I have watched you do the same to him. I have been patiently waiting for the day when you surmount your damnable pride and finally accept your feelings, and thus far, I laughed shortly to myself. My waiting has been in vain.  
  
For a moment Nona sat beside me, her eyes slightly unfocused. I felt an instant of fear that she had noticed the strain in my voice that I had been striving to contain which would betray my own feelings but it quickly dissipated when she smiled joyfully at me. She spun around on the piano stool and leaned back on the keys with an eager look in her glowing face.  
  
Hopefully, Watson, you won't have to wait much longer. So, oh guru of the softer emotions, what do I do now?  
  
Relief coupled with a familiar twinge of sorrow forced me to keep my gaze thoughtfully angled away from her. To cover my lapse, I returned her pertness with my own. When we return to London, perhaps a swift kick in the trousers. She laughed, as intended, and I quickly gathered my logical thoughts. As for now, nothing.  
  
My declaration clearly disappointed her.  
  
  
  
I smiled sadly at her and myself. Holmes has the case to attend to, and I do not believe that a confession of love would be helpful to his concentration. Bide your time, Nona. The opportunity will present itself, I am sure. But when it does, be sure to seize it.  
  
With another delighted laugh, she took my chin in her hand and kissed my cheek. I fought to keep the blush from my face as she beamed down at me. Thanks for the advice, doc. And not a WORD of this to Holmes.  
  
I did my best to return her smile before turning back to the piano in an effort to rebury my selfishness. My final words were full of irony. As always, Nona, I am the very soul of discretion. Best of luck, my dear. I fear you will need it.  
  
Again my fingers took on life of their own as the door closed behind Miss Nona E. Brown. I was happy for them both, truly I was. And yet I could not help feeling like I had been left behind. From the moment I met Holmes, he had sprung out in front of me in our relationship. When Nona arrived, she managed to first keep up, then meet him up ahead. I would be always watching from afar. But I was content. I would be the voice they could never find within themselves. I would be a loyal foundation to hold our group together in our inevitable moments of personal earthquakes. And I knew there would be plenty.  
  
  
  
  
Finis  
  
  
  



End file.
